


Stray

by miserylolita



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic, Drama, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Soulmates, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3543449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserylolita/pseuds/miserylolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a tweet by my friend, Alina. Nen-less AU. Seventeen year old stray Killua wanders the world aimlessly, avoiding his family line of work, and a stray cat on a remote island leads him to Gon, who dreams of exploring the world. When Killua opens up about his past and Gon accepts him, they agree to try to travel the world together. Killua finds what home really means, and that a stray can find a home in a person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adrift

“The stray.”

That phrase had come to Killua’s mind as he stared out into the street earlier that evening. Balmy spring air hung like damp navy in the gaps between glowing streetlights. It was evening, and the cup that held his chocolate milkshake was almost empty. He had been sitting in this diner for half an hour now, just contemplating things.

It was cheesy, but in a sense that phrase that came to Killua’s mind had seemed to encompass him in so many ways. How dramatic of him, to envision himself a wanderer, a floating presence through life, anchored to nothing. He slurped the last of the milkshake, the harsh resulting sound disturbing his thoughts, and headed out the door without waiting for his change. With nowhere in particular to be, his brisk walk had given him an air of purpose.

Such his days went. Moving from place to place, stopping to observe or contemplate with detachment. If there had been a hint of yearning in his wanderings at the beginning, none of it remained. Now loose in the wide world and free from homeschooling, life held no direction for him. Were he to discard his past, there was no future waiting for him. He kept moving under the pretense of discovering a purpose moving forward, but months had passed of traveling, taking in the world but letting it pass through him. Now he was on some remote Pacific Island, further from his “home” than ever.

Yet not once did homesickness cross his heart. He had no desire to follow in his father’s footsteps of being an assassin. Illumi had already filled that role, of being molded in his father’s image, although with Illumi there was that strangeness of temperament? values? scruples? No doubt that side came from his unstable, overbearing mother, although Killua knew his father was no shining beacon of morality either.

No, Killua was not planning to ever return “home.” He didn’t have much anywhere else to go, and thus did he wander. The more distance he had covered, the more his purpose in being seemed to dilute. Instead of moving forward, it was as if he had been marching in place, a desire for autonomy and direction deep in his heart, but nothing in this world to grasp him. He couldn’t imagine something in the world that could help bring him out of wandering.

To interrupt his introspection, a tiny bit of movement caught Killua’s sharp eyes. A cat with a black coat approached him from the other end of the block, seemingly without fear, and followed him as he walked past.

A strange one. The appropriate thought had come to him as he passed the animal shelter. An animal was likely to blow his cover and make it difficult for him to sleep undetected in the nearby youth hostel... even if she was cute and had exhibited some form of endearing, if not unwarranted, attraction to him.

She followed him into the shelter, almost as if he had been the one she was escorting in rather than the other way around. That was where he had met Gon.

The figure standing before rows of cages sensed his entrance, and at that point all Killua could see was white tank top and green shorts and well-toned arms and tan legs and spiky black hair. He ascertained that this was a guy his age, around seventeen like himself, and as the figure had turned around and Killua’s blue eyes had met brown.

The cat had entered the room, as if on cue to introduce itself, and that was when the boy had said it, “the stray!” and Killua for a moment could have sworn that this boy was referring to him. He watched, captured by something he could not place, as the boy bent down to meet the approaching cat. He heard a light laugh and saw the boy smiling as he rubbed the cat’s head with a tender friendliness, and it was then that Killua felt that the boy glowed with radiance, as though not fluorescent lights but sun reflected off his golden skin. Something in his conscience felt as if it were floating as he watched the boy pick the cat up and hold it with care.

“Do you want to hold her?” The boy focused on Killua now, a switch that Killua swore he could feel. The boy's alert, open gaze seemed to anchor Killua's presence in the room.

In response, Killua shrugged but moved closer, holding his arms out casually, and thus did he receive the purring bundle of fur and feel the tickle of the cat’s ear brushing against his chin.

“She likes you.”

Killua made a sound to acknowledge that, preoccupied with the way the boy’s wide grin showed in his eyes.

“...I’m Killua.”

“I’m Gon. You must be good with animals, Killua.”

“It’s nothing,” Killua replied. He felt that it would be quite pleasant to hear this boy say his name again.

They talked for a while, and Killua learned that Gon was a volunteer at this animal shelter and a humble resident of the island. He found himself helping out as the conversation flowed on, carrying boxes of litter and food back and forth, eager to show off his own physical strength. Gon seemed impressed.

“Do you work out?”

Killua beamed and flushed a bit, happy that he had been noticed. “What made you guess?”

Gon set down his box and walked over to hold Killua’s arm up, and Killua internally jumped. He noticed the way Gon’s strong hands wrapped around his wrist, golden skin against his own pale complexion.

“You have nice arms!” Gon said, smiling.

“What the heck,” Killua mumbled, pleased despite himself. He wanted to return the compliment, but there was no way he could say something that embarrassing to a guy he just met. Gon sure had some guts.

With the last of the duties wrapping up, Killua glanced at the clock and wondered how an hour had passed by since he walked into this shelter, intent just on dropping the stray off. He watched Gon from the side, realizing that it was the first time in a long time that he had interacted with someone his own age.

“Thanks for helping out!” They were now exiting the shelter, the night air a bit chillier on his shoulders than Killua could’ve anticipated. Gon too, was making his way outside in a tank top, although he seemed unfazed.

Killua shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do.” He wondered how he was going to find an excuse to come back.

“Then we should hang out!”

Killua felt a smile tug at his lips, but he looked at his feet. “When?”

“Now!”

“…Now?”

“Do you have anything better to do?”

Killua opened and closed his mouth before looking away. “Nah.” They were at the front gate now, and as Gon turned around to close the gate, there stood the black cat.

Gon made a sound of confusion and exasperation. “How’d you get out again?”

“Again?”

“She escaped earlier today. I could’ve sworn I…” his voice trailed off as he watched the cat rub around Killua’s ankles, curling its tail affectionately around his calf. “She really does like you!”

Killua looked at the cat in amazement. He had no idea how he had won this cat’s heart. Maybe he did have a way with animals. Maybe just as much as he saw Gon did. And admittedly, this cat’s powers of stealth spoke to him.

“Do you wanna…” Gon looked into his eyes, and Killua was struck by how bright they were even in the dark. “Do you wanna keep her?”

Ah. “I can’t.”

“Ahh. Sorry! Don’t worry about it.” Gon looked at the cat with sympathy.

“M…maybe I can,” Killua said, squirming a bit. What was he buying himself into? He didn’t have the money to find a place to live. Plus if he got a cat, he’d have to stay here. He had been wandering from place to place for almost a year, and had no plans to be stuck on this island. But looking at Gon’s relieved and glad eyes gazing at him now, it felt like crap to have to take back those words. “No... Sorry. I’m actually traveling, and won’t be here for long.”

Gon looked even more crestfallen than before and it hit Killua like a brick to the face. Dammit, nice one, Killua.

“B…but maybe if I like it here, I’ll stay for a while longer.” Was he even thinking before he was talking? The words had just flowed out of him and he watched Gon seem to renew at this promise that Killua had made without thinking. “No guarantees,” he added, but that didn’t seem to deter the boy.

Within a half hour he found himself in Gon’s house, a black cat on his lap. Somehow Killua had managed to slip that he was sneaking youth hostel stays in front of Gon and his aunt Mito, and now he was arranged to stay in the house for as long as he liked. “If you’re going to sleep somewhere for free, at least be our guest.” Aunt Mito was not about to let "Gon’s friend" be without a roof.

Killua’s heart seemed to swell a bit with joy upon hearing that. He was Gon’s friend.

Killua stuttered, thanking with awkwardness the woman smiling warmly at him. “Uh, is the cat being here okay…?” Was this supposed to be his cat?

It seemed fine with Aunt Mito. So the cat would be around for now.

After his first real shower in a while, he pulled out from his backpack his only change of clothes and made himself comfortable in Gon’s room. He had just put on a pair of borrowed pants to combat the chilly night air when Gon came in, his back supporting the couch from the living room. Killua heard a bang as the couch bumped against the door frame, for which Gon quickly apologized, before maneuvering through the door and setting the couch down against the wall opposite Gon’s bed. It didn’t take much for Killua to guess that he was going to be sleeping there.

“Hey, Killua,” and Killua looked at him. He always seemed to be excited about something. “Wanna go to the convenience store with me? Aunt Mito needs milk for tomorrow.”

Killua agreed, but not before realizing that Gon’s pants were a bit loose on him. He stuck his hands into the pockets to secure them against his hips, and felt the way the fabric fell gently on his skin, having been worn many times before by someone wider than him.

When they went into the night air, Killua was amazed that this island would have a convenience store open at this time. He expected that of urban areas, but not of place as quiet and empty as this.

Jogging next to Gon, he felt air entering his lungs that brought a freshness to his mind, and he felt his step sync with Gon’s own pace. They made their way over hills and past dense forest on either side, and for the first time Killua realized that he had spent the past few days confined to only one part of the small island—the part with the cafes and shops and the youth hostel. It didn’t occur to him to wander out this far out, into the wilderness, where streetlights were scarce and the light of moon barely lit their path. He felt not fear, but excitement, and no doubt he could attribute that to having Gon navigate confidently by his side.

The convenience store was in fact in the opposite direction of town, by the coast. Killua saw docks and boats lit by moonlight, and windows lit from the inside on a building near the edge of a cliff by the shore. The moon shone just as strong after they exited the convenience store, one shopping bag for each of them. Gon seemed to be comfortable in the wilderness even in the dark, Killua observed out loud.

Gon looked at the trees passing by, smiling. “I know these woods inside and out. I like being around them.”

Killua whistled. A boy at home in the outside world, at least in the confines of this island. Compared to himself, who really only knew the inside of his family’s mansion inside out and ways to conduct himself in refined urban settings, the wilderness was uncovered territory. He glanced at the woods too, and wished he could share in Gon’s understanding.

“I have an idea! I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can go fishing together! How do you like the sound of that?”

Killua had never gone fishing, but this boy’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Eh, sure,” he responded noncommittally. Didn’t have anything better to do.

When they settled in for the night, Killua felt different laying down in the darkness, a way he had never felt before. His room at “home” was large, cold, and empty. His presence was inadequate to fill the space, and the moon would cast ghastly echoes of light across the floor. But here in Gon’s room, it was a bit of a tight fit, as the house was modest, but it was… cozy. He listened to Gon’s even breathing and knew that he was asleep.

I could kill him right now, Killua thought for a second, then mentally punched himself. He had been trained to have these thoughts, although never did he actually kill anyone, at least not for sport. So fine, he had killed. It was inevitable in his training, the training he increasingly refused as he grew older, to varying degrees of success. The things he learned were programmed into him and built into his habits regardless of how he felt about it. He thought of the blades he had hidden on him at all times, even when sparsely dressed, but then remembered how for fear of tearing Gon’s pants up he had left them behind when going to the convenience store. He thought of the way Gon’s veins intertwined with the muscles on his arms and how they bulged slightly with physical effort—a boy’s body nearing its prime, with a strong beating heart. He thought of Gon’s hand catching Killua’s wrist, golden flesh against pale.

What if Gon knew?

“Gon?”

Gon was fast asleep. Killua turned over so that he faced the wall, pulling his blanket with him. He would never thank for Gon’s hospitality by killing him. He would never respond to someone by killing them, ever. He knew all the ways in which people could die, some quicker than others, but having that knowledge didn’t have to mean anything, didn’t have to manifest in action. Maybe Gon wouldn’t have to know.


	2. Float

“They’re assassins.” Killua tried to say it like it was nothing at all. “My parents get paid to kill people.” Matter-of-fact, that was the way to go. There. He had said it.

* * *

Killua watched Gon weave through trees, navigating the topography of the forest with grace and ease. Speckled light and shadows passed over him. Gnarled, irregular roots passed under him. A fishing rod bounced behind, dipping with the rhythm of Gon’s running. The canopy of leaves above them shielded them from the mid-afternoon sky.

* * *

Killua had woken that morning, disoriented to his surroundings, wondering why he was on a couch with a black cat sleeping on his belly. He remembered the previous night as soon as he looked to the side and saw Gon, spread out across his bed, having kicked off the covers completely in his sleep. Killua, having been trained to be undetectable even in slumber, found his blankets on him exactly as they had been when Killua crawled in them. Despite golden stripes of morning light coming in through the shutters, the air outside the covers felt chilly, and Killua wondered, with simultaneous wonder and envy, how Gon could sleep so comfortably in the open, his arms and legs splayed everywhere, tank top scrunched up so his belly was open.

Gon began to stir not long after Killua, and within minutes they were both downstairs for breakfast. Killua offered a helping hand, reluctant to otherwise intrude on a family’s everyday life, but Mito would not allow a guest to do housework. That was, until Gon burnt the pancakes.

Killua took pride in his pancakes. In his everything, in fact, when it came to cooking. He could make a mean shrimp cocktail. And trout marinated with mustard sauce on rice. He called it Sushi Bourgogne—

…Anyway, the pancakes were a success. Killua recalled a story in which he purposefully put rat droppings in his mother’s and second oldest brother’s pancakes as a young child. Upon hearing this story, Aunt Mito paled, but Gon laughed and kept eating. These pancakes were definitely blueberry.

It was a good start to the day.

As promised, Gon was going to take him fishing on his day off.

For Killua, responding to the changing ground of the forest floor was from quick-mindedness rather than Gon’s familiarity with the landscape, but Gon grinned at him, impressed.

“You’re doing a good job of keeping up, Killua!”

There it was again, Gon saying his name. Killua tried to remember the last time he had been addressed by name, before he met Gon. Even in his home, his mother and siblings referred to him with the diminutive “Kil.” This felt different.

“Tch, you’re not so bad yourself,” Killua replied, hardly out of breath. It was an understatement, but Gon beamed.

“I can go even faster.”

Before Killua could say anything, Gon dashed ahead.

“O-oi!”

In a rare moment of clumsiness, Killua saw the world tilt towards him, and felt the grain of bark against his face.

Soon they reached the shore of the island, a patch of grass before cliff’s end acting as transition between forest and water and light streaming through leaves changing into a blanket of sunshine. Killua felt the ocean breeze sweep through his hair, uninterrupted by curtains of trees. Seagulls seemed to float overhead, as if they were sunbathing kites.

Gon shuffled the backpack down from his shoulders, finding the straps ever so slightly sticky from sweat. They had reached one of the island’s fishing spots, and if weather permitted today, they could camp out until late at night.

Killua anticipated a day of relaxation. Nothing too different from the past few months. But having a companion seemed to make it different. He watched with contentment as Gon filled a bucket with water and set it aside before proceeding to removing and opening the kit from his backpack.

That contentment dissipated when he saw the pink wriggling tube-like thing in Gon’s fingers. When Gon asked him if he had fished before, Killua could only stare, flabbergasted.

“This is a worm, Killua,” Gon started, a bit teasingly. The grimace remained on Killua’s face as hook entered worm, and none of Killua’s in-depth knowledge of how to best exterminate a human life with a blade did him any good with squeamishness right now. Seeing his face, Gon laughed and pressed the kit into his hands. “We should catch a fish first, and then I can watch you try hooking the bait.” Oh boy!

With less apprehension Killua joined Gon at the edge of the cliff, the former freely dangling his feet over what must’ve been a 20-foot drop while the other stood and cast, sending the red bobber into a vast blue. Impressed, Killua couldn’t help but whistle. His friend had a good arm.

The lure and hook silently disappeared into the ocean, remaining connected by fishing line. Killua stared at the tip, wondering where all that line was coming from. He then felt Gon press the rod into his hands and looked to his right. “Gon?”

Gon reached forward, brushing his arm past Killua’s bare shoulder to hold Killua’s hand in his. With that sensation Killua was instantly aware of the body against his left side, not his right, where he had looked, and the breath near his ear. Before he could ask anything, he watched tanned hands adjust his own pales ones so that they gripped the rod more comfortably.

“I usually hold it like this,” Gon explained. “I’ll show you how to tell when you’ve got a fish, and how to pull it in.”

Killua could feel the tips of his ears growing warm. It had better be the sunlight that was making him flush a bit. “D-do you always show people like this?” He turned to look at Gon, bringing their faces a bit too close for comfort.

Gon’s expression was completely normal, and all Killua could detect in his voice was innocent concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Killua stuttered. He felt something like slight panic. There was this heightened awareness of his limbs, and not the kind that he felt when approaching a target, but one accompanied by a racing heart. He wondered how Gon was comfortable enough to maintain this much physical proximity without feeling as embarrassed as he did. Only one other person in this world ever came this close to his body, as far as he could care to remember, and it was a long time since Killua had seen her. And it wasn’t quite like this. “N…nothing.”

“Ok! Pull in your legs, and put the rod… right here.” The end of the rod rested between his folded legs, guided by Gon’s hands. Killua swallowed. Not sure how he felt about Gon leaning against him and feeling his hands that close to… yeah.

Only after that did Gon sit up and withdraw his hands, leaving Killua feeling like a whirlwind had just scattered leaves from the trees behind them into his brain. Gon told him to mind the rod and he grunted noncommittally, a bit dazed. He had definitely felt something very un-innocent, and he could tell it had nothing to do with killing.

When the tug came he actually almost missed it, but Gon had been alert, and now the physical contact resumed as Gon placed his hands on Killua’s once again to pull. Killua too, in this moment, was now preoccupied with the living, moving thing on the other end of the fishing line. With their combined strength, the fish gave easily, and Killua was in for a gross-out 2.0 as Gon unhooked the fish’s lip and the fish’s vacant eyes stared back at him, unmoving even as its body flailed in Gon’s hands, vacant still even as it reached the temporary refuge of the bucket.

Hooking the bait the second time wasn’t much easier than the first. Killua could barely stand the sensation of wriggling annelid intact in his hand, let alone the way the hook punctured it as if it were corkboard. Even gruesome intestines didn’t move on their own like worms did. He was more than ready to cast this debacle out to sea, and was glad to see that his hasty cast lived up to Gon’s precedent.

It was Gon’s turn to whistle. “I’ve been fishing my whole life, but you cast almost as good as I do.” Killua beamed at the praise. “Did you really never fish before?” Killua shook his head. Nope! He was a natural. “Wow… what kind of things did you do then?”

Anything resembling a blanket of security in Killua’s perception of the atmosphere was torn away with that sentence.

“All sorts of stuff.”

“That’s not an answer,” Gon pouted.

“I’m the leader of an international drug ring.”

“Killua…”

"You know that stuff? D2? I invented that. It’s all in the rat poop, you see.”

Gon frowned at him.

Fine, he’d make something less obviously unbelievable up. He opened his mouth to answer, not sure what was going to come out next, when the rod tried to launch itself out of his hands to join the force pulling its other end in the ocean.

“Shit!”

Anyone could tell that the catch was likely to be at least heavier than a human being, at least as much as a lean seventeen-year-old teenage boy, maybe even two. He barely noticed Gon running up behind him and grabbing the pole, vaguely pressing against his body. Their eyes were on the prize now, and with their combined strength they were only able to stop Killua from skidding forward.

“What kind of fish do you have on this island?!” Killua yelled, voice strained from effort. Gon was too focused on dealing with the immediate concern of hauling it in to think of an answer, and yelled something in reply, which Killua couldn’t hear over the wind, which was picking up now and drowning out Gon’s voice. He asked Gon to repeat.

“Hold on tight!”

“Wh—“ and with that, Gon moved his hands from the rod to allow his arms to circle Killua’s waist. In that instant Killua almost let everything go, his arms and legs both, from surprise, but he felt a powerful tug from his midsection and suddenly needed to focus on his core as he felt Gon lift him off the ground. “Holy--!”

Gon started to move back, holding Killua against him, while Killua remained as stiff as a totem pole, arms hanging onto the rod for dear life, feeling like his midsection would snap or crush if it wasn’t for his trained abdominals and back, and feet above the ground. He definitely had to be a little taller than Gon, if he subtracted Gon’s spiky hair, but Gon was definitely a more robust build, and Killua could feel it in the arms wrapped around his waist.

The rod bent and danced wildly with all the forces acting upon it—wind, fish (?), and Killua’s grip, growing sweatier and riskier by the second.

“On the count of 3,” Gon said, and instantly Killua knew what to do. “1, 2… 3!”

Simultaneously they moved back and Killua used the last of his endurance to yank the rod, and in that moment the tugging on the other side came loose. They both fell back, Killua landing on Gon, but looked forward to any sign of their catch at the other end of the line.

That was when they saw the mass flying towards them.

Ducking, the mass flew over their heads to crash into the trees, sending birds scattering in all directions, but they had witnessed it long enough to know that it wasn’t a fish. Rather, it had looked like a mass of wood.

Scrambling to their feet now, they rushed towards the collision site and stumbled upon the wreck as if they had been chasing a falling star. The mass had cleared through two trees, toppling them and opening a new patch of the forest floor to interrupted sunlight.

It was a boat.

“Do you usually catch boats while fishing?” Killua asked sardonically.

Gon gave him a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve never fished up something like this, because I didn’t have you around to help me.”

It was Killua’s turn to rub the back of his head. Who said things like that? “Well, what can we do with this? We certainly can’t eat it.” And Killua certainly couldn’t make Sushi Bourgogne.

Gon was quiet as he examined the boat, intact in some places and piles of splintered wood in others. The wood was heavily damped with decay.

“Oi!” Killua rushed up to him as he reached down to move some debris aside. “Careful!”

The wind picked up again, and Gon stood up before Killua could reach for his wrist, sniffing the air and pressing against the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“There’s a storm approaching. We should hurry back.”

They collected their things, and Killua followed him without a word, scrambling up and down over gnarled roots, the speckled light filtering through the canopy fading into cloudiness, a cloudiness rapidly tumbling from over the horizon.

Soon raindrops fell where sunlight once did and they moved with urgency now, feeling cold, wet jabs on their bodies. By the time they reached home, the rain had transformed into torrential downpour, and they dripped onto the kitchen floor as they rushed upstairs. The lights were off, and the house empty. Mito was out running errands, visiting the elderly of the island, among them Gon’s grandmother. The house was virtually silent, save for the constant shower hitting the roof, as he watched Gon remove his tank top and noticed the sheen of tan skin in the dim light from the window blinds.

* * *

Killua bit his lip. Should he make something up? He would just have to maintain the act, and it wasn’t as if lying or acting wasn’t one of his best skills. But Gon didn’t seem to fall for his tricks, and he didn’t want to lie about himself anymore, not if he was making a friend. He didn’t want to have to approach everything in his life as if he needed to put on endless façade after façade, so as to best remain invulnerable, so as to best assassinate. He was aware now, of the blood he had on his hands, even from when he was a small child, like traces of iron dust on his skin and steel in his heart. Things he couldn’t make up for with stories about rat poop pancakes or jokes about being a drug lord.

* * *

They were tumbling through another section of the forest, the roots slippery and the ground damp from yesterday’s downpour. The boat was gone. Gon had told Mito about the boat at dinner, and Killua had Gon’s towel draped around his shoulders, smelling like Gon’s soap. Mito phoned the fishermen by the piers and the storekeeper by the docks, and they had taken it away, presumably to see what could be salvaged.

They had a tree-climbing contest. Only then did Killua discover how tall these trees were, how high the canopy was, that it may as well have been the sky. The higher they went, the drier the bark was. Gon climbed with all fours while Killua ran up, his body parallel to the ground. To their shared amazement, they tied.

“What are you, a squirrel?” How Gon had kept up with him while he was running as upright, he did not know.

“What about you, Killua? You ran up here like you were going for a jog!”

“This is nothing,” Killua beamed. “I’ve scaled sides of buildings like this.” It sounded too ridiculous to be true, but Gon knew what he saw.

Gon leaped to another branch, and Killua copied him. They raced about, tapping against boughs and weighing down the limbs of the forest as they pleased. Speckled light and shadow, sliding over Gon’s body, blurred silhouettes of leaves tracing themselves on him like a film reel.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure.”

Gon leapt over to another branch and dropped down so that he could feel his hair pull towards the ground, catching himself on the branch with the pits of his knees. Killua stood watching with his hands in his pockets, not very impressed.

“So… you can hang upside from a tree.” Sure, they were really high up, and one glance down induced vertigo that could make a thousand men nauseated to the point of fainting, not that either of them seemed to be phased. “Are you a bat now?”

“Look over here, Killua,” and then Killua saw what Gon was pointing at. A bird’s nest, with eggs. The mother sat, watching the two of them carefully.

Killua had the impulse to make a joke about sunny-side up for breakfast tomorrow, but the childlike wonder of seeing a nest in person, up close, took over instead. He moved next to Gon and too hung upside down, like a bat.

They hung very still for a while, waiting. Killua swore he could feel an ant crawling up his calf, but did nothing. He’d been trained to remain undetected, unmoving, in far more unpleasant situations. And here at least, he could feel a breeze rustling through his hair. If he looked to his side, he could see the angle of Gon’s jawline, and the muscular curve of his neck.

It was barely audible over the quiet whisper of the wind, but the flutter of wings came to the nest and a second bird, appearing nearly identical to the first, came to the edge of the nest and briefly preened his partner. They looked quite the pair, both with brilliant plumage.

“They’re both fathers.”

Killua gave the pair a second look. It was true. A bird of this kind was one where only the males had bright colors and patterns, and sure enough, both of them were male.

“It’s the first pair I found like that in the forest,” Gon said. “In all my life. I discovered them, actually, the day before you came.”

He was seventeen.

* * *

Killua had only planned to stay a few days, maybe a week. But something was different now, about him, or about this place. The first sign that that was when he had the impulse to name the cat. “Nanika,” he had decided.

Gon looked at Nanika. “Nanika?”

“Nanika.”

It meant “something.” It sounded like Killua was too lazy to think of any other name. But the way this cat came after him so affectionately and persistently, he didn’t understand. What’s with this cat? Something.

By then it had been a week. Killua went fishing with Gon several more times, although never willing to hook the bait. They brought fish home to Nanika, and Killua fell deeper in love with the cat. So much that when Nanika was nowhere to be found when he woke on the eighth morning, Killua paced about the house, unable to mask his distress.

Aunt Mito was downstairs, wiping down the table as congee was bubbling on the stovetop. “Killua? What’s wrong?”

Where’s Nanika? Wasn’t she usually asleep on Killua’s belly until he got up in the morning? Did she leave the house? Killua mentally ran a list of most likely locations that a cat would wander to, or worse, be stuck in.

When Nanika was found soon after, stuck in the bathroom after someone had accidentally closed the door, Killua realized his attachment.

* * *

The second sign was in the second week, when he had fallen into the routine of helping Mito and Gon with the house between outdoor adventures, and had even met Gon’s grandmother, in the senior home in town. It was when he and Gon were helping Mito fold laundry that Killua noticed a photo that stood out among others on a bookshelf.

“Who’s that?”

“That’s Ging.”

“Who’s Ging?”

“My dad,” Gon answered.

Killua had noticed the absence of Gon’s birth parents from the beginning, but never bothered to ask until that photo, frame and dust and all, caught his eye. He didn’t know how he had overlooked that detail, that bookshelf.

Gon told him. How he never knew his mother, and his father had left him when he was two, traveling the world as an archaeologist. “Aunt Mito raised me.” He had said all of this without a hint of sadness. “When I try to picture my mother, I just think of Aunt Mito every time.”

Killua wanted to ask. Wasn’t Gon sad that his father never came to see him, didn’t pay any attention to him at all growing up? Wasn’t he lonely? But he looked at Gon’s bright eyes, and already had the answer.

* * *

By the end of the second week, Killua was starting to feel a strange itch. Not the kind that one would scratch, but a strange need to run, to fly. To leave. But he didn’t. Gon sensed that Killua was troubled, and proposed something new. After a day of exploring the island, they set up camp by a starlit cliff, their small campfire unable to drown out the light of the constellations. In all of Killua’s travels, he hadn’t seen stars as clear as this, not even at “home.”

“Have you been on this island your whole life?” Killua asked. Neither of them looked at each other. Eyes watching twinkling lights.

“More or less.” Gon swung his feet back and forth, hanging them over the edge of the cliff. “I traveled a bit, but this island has always been home.”

“Wow, don’t you ever want to leave?” Seventeen years of the same old place. Granted, it was a nice place. But Killua was ready to go see the world.

Gon looked down, now at the sea. “Mm.” His feet kept swinging. “I want to travel the world.”

Why didn’t he?

“What about you, Killua? Where are you from?”

Ah. “Not really anywhere,” Killua shrugged. “I’ve traveled a lot."

Gon gasped. “What kind of places have you been to?”

Killua recounted tales of bright bustling metropolises with urban lights, vast stretches of sand, cities half modern, half ruins, jungles and swamps and mountains galore. In truth, he had never been to these sorts of places. He had wandered around from vague town to town, just not wanting to be home, and this island had been the biggest leap he took. But he really did want to see these places, and Gon’s receptive listening only fueled this desire.

They both looked at the stars with the realization now, that other places of the world saw other stars. For a while, the silence let them contemplate this.

“Hey, Killua.”

“Hnn?”

“Where are your parents?”

There it was.

“They’re assassins.” Killua tried to say it like it was nothing at all. “My parents get paid to kill people.” Matter-of-fact, that was the way to go. There. He had said it.

“Both of them?!” Gon asked, amazed.

Killua stared, almost blankly. “That’s the first thing you ask?”

“Is that a strange thing to ask?”

Killua waved his hands to say no, laughing a little. It was time for Gon’s heart to flutter a bit. Killua’s laugh was airy, hearty, and like bells all at once. “No, it’s just, whenever I’ve told people this before, they usually thought I was joking.”

“But you’re not joking, right?”

Killua stared at the boy in front of him. Gon wasn’t completely saying that as a question. “How can you tell?”

“It’s a hunch.”

A hunch, huh.

“Don’t be so trusting of me. I’ve been raised to be like them.” He anticipated the pause, then nervous questions, or physical distancing, or the coldness to return.

But without missing a beat, Gon shrugged again. “That’s fine.”

“I could’ve been lying just now. Before even,” Killua insisted.

Gon still looked at him. “No, you’re not lying. Although I know you were lying about the places you had been to.”

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

“You and your damn hunches,” Killua grumbled, and Gon laughed apologetically.

They were looking at each other now. “I’m glad I met you, Killua.”

Huh?

“I’m glad we’re friends.”

Killua’s heart swelled. “What are you saying, so suddenly…” He looked away, rubbing the back of his head. Gon laughed again, and Killua wanted to keep that laugh forever.

* * *

When they came home that night, Mito was waiting for them. She held something green and small out to Gon, and Killua saw the stunned look on Gon’s face.

“This is Ging’s ring,” Mito explained. It went into Gon’s hands. “The fishermen who were cleaning up the boat found it in the wreckage.”

Killua watched Gon’s face carefully.

“How did this ring end up here? Honestly! What does that man think he’s doing?” Mito grumbled.

“Has Ging been here?” Gon asked.

Mito’s arms were crossed, her mind preoccupied with her long term frustration with her dysfunctional relative, but she softened as she spoke to Gon. “Not that I know of.”

When they went to bed later that night, Gon slept with the covers on.

* * *

“There’s a letter for you, Killua?” Mito had said.

Killua understood the itch now.

* * *

He had been there 17 days total the morning he slipped out without a word, silently burning the letter out of sight and waiting for dawn. Smiling a bit more than usual, petting Nanika with a sort of forlorn resignation. Running through the forest, catching fish, even playfully wrestling with Gon. When Gon pinned him down and he looked at Gon with the speckled sunlight falling all around them, he thought his heart would shatter. How ironic it was, then, that his heart was as rigid as stone when he stepped out of the house, twilight watercoloring the sky, so that he could catch the next boat off this island and never return.


	3. Sail

Nanika busied herself with pawing at Gon’s leg, instead of resting on Killua. Not that Killua was there. Gon rubbed his eyes once, twice, vision adjusting to the morning light after a night of restful sleep. The couch he had carried into this room weeks ago, rather than containing a person, had the covers neatly folded and left in a pile, a quiet farewell, deliberate and polite. It didn’t take long for Gon to pull a fresh shirt over his head, scribble a note for Mito, and grab the bag he’d had been secretly packing over the past week.

He’d been collecting things from around the house, envisioning the things they would do and see, the things he would need whilst traveling the unknown world with his friend.  As far as hunches went, he had a good track record of them being true. Most, say 90%, of the time, Gon was immersed in the present, in the concrete details of the world. The spaces around him and how to move within them, the smell and taste of the weather, the feeling of sunshine and shade speckled through forest canopies. But once in a while, there would be this unexplainable comprehension of... something.

Of course, there was also that observable things that were clearly unusual, and with inductive reasoning, could lead to the same conclusion. But for Gon, it was the hunch that came, that made him move without stopping to think. The hunch, and the feeling, and the instant ignition of resolve.

Killua had left.

As Gon ran, he thought of the night before. There was a letter for Killua, surprisingly. Something in Killua had shifted after reading that letter, like Gon had been listening to a song that changed in key, slightly but perceptibly.

When he had first met Killua, he could sense something fragile. Though the boy was anything but defenseless, somewhere in that head of soft white hair and trained pale body.

The island was behind Gon now and the ferry Killua had boarded not far before him. Gon approached his friend, after having reached the dock, boarded the ferry, and climbed up to the deck. He stood close enough to Killua to enter his space, but far away enough to not disturb it.

“Where are you going now?” Gon asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Killua confessed to no one, his head down as he leaned against the railing of the ferry’s deck, letting his hair feel the breeze instead. “I don’t know where I can go.”

Wait a second.

Killua looked to his side. Gon stood next to him, in a green jacket and track pants, as if he was supposed to be there all along. There was a backpack slung over his shoulders, the same undersized backpack he had brought fishing, and the rod with the red bobber rested over his shoulder. It looked like they were about to head out as usual, as they had every day for the past few weeks.

“Gon?! What are you doing here?!” Killua almost hollered. How did he not notice Gon approaching him?

Gon looked at him, amber eyes piercing him. “I don’t know where you’re going, but I want to come too.”

“What about Mito? What about your grandmother?”

“I already asked them if I could travel with you when you left,” Gon explained. A bit of hurt surfaced in his voice as he said, “I just didn’t expect you to leave so suddenly.”

Killua swallowed. Guilt caught in his throat.

“Have you ever been outside the island by yourself?”

Gon stood up straighter, looking a bit insulted. “I’m older than you, Killua. I’ll be fine.”

Killua narrowed his eyes, unbelieving.

“I turn eighteen in two weeks.”

Killua almost wanted to bop Gon on the head. What difference did being older by two months make? But looking at Gon’s intense gaze, Killua realized he wouldn’t easily override Gon’s resolve to travel the world. It wasn’t an issue of Gon being capable or allowed in the first place. Gon wanted to be there. And so would Gon insist.

The dock was moving away from them now as the ferry had begun to depart. The only clear indications of movement through the vast sea were the shrinking island, sliding towards the horizon, and a breeze that ran between them.

Gon unzipped his backpack, and to Killua’s disbelief, Nanika popped her head out.

“You--!” Killua pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes in frustration.

“Killua…”

Killua let his hand fall to his side, as if in defeat.

“Do you not want me… around?” Gon was looking at his feet.

A lump formed in Killua’s throat. Surely there was no physical mass lodged in there. But words twisted and choked and sputtered before they could even reach his mouth, and there they burned, destined to never be spoken. There was a lie that Killua could not tell. He could not cut Gon off callously.

“No,” he said hoarsely, almost in a whisper, looking anywhere but at Gon and Nanika. “That’s not it. I want you around.”

They sat quietly on a bench, the atmosphere between them heavy. Nanika traversed the weighted space with ease, making herself comfortable on Killua’s lap.

Killua swallowed, though the lump in his throat remained strong. He looked at Gon, backlit by the sun. Gon smiled at him, and his heart fluttered.

He knew not why Killua was acting strange, was not confiding in him. But if Killua wanted to be with him... Gon couldn’t imagine what would make Killua leave, but if he could create the space for Killua to do what he wanted to, then he would.

“Then let’s stay together.”

Killua’s shoulder’s fell. He scratched the back of his neck subconsciously and watched the waves dancing up on down on the surface of the sea like little glistening mountains, ever changing, but always the same.

“Yeah.”

Killua’s looked over to Gon, and Gon was bright. If his heart could take flight, it would ride on the back of Gon’s laughter.

* * *

Killua watched Gon hike up the path with him, backlit by the sun.

There was abundant forest around them, though the trunks of these trees were far more gnarled, twisted, and pocketed with crevices than those of the trees from Gon’s home island. Gon had initially attempted to climb one but found that every step summoned a wave of insects, pouring out from the tree’s nooks like a puddle of iridescent, twitching colors.

They found beetles of colors that changed as the light shifted, beetles with horns, beetles that made noise as they flew. Butterflies with wings that seemed to look at you, praying mantises as still as statues. Caterpillars dancing up a tree, to join their brothers hanging like ornaments among the leaves. The hum of cicadas unseen and the rhythmic trills of humble crickets.

Prior to this Killua had only really noticed bugs like houseflies and cockroaches. Sitting in small, enclosed spaces, stealthily anticipating the moment to strike, sharing those moments and spaces with whichever crawling creatures resided there—bugs were a fact. But he never did see them as lovely, as he did now.

As the day grew late, the fireflies woke and dotted the forest like strings of swaying lanterns. When Gon gasped in amazement, Killua felt himself gasping quietly as well.

“This would be a good place for a date,” Gon pondered.

“Haha,” Killua laughed nervously. Well, it was true. Gon looked at him now, and Killua felt his heart race. Needing to divert his attention from it, he asked, “Have you been on a date before?”

“Oh, yeah. Loads of times.”

Oof. That hit like a punch to the gut.

“Lots of tourists who come to the island are older women. I seem to be their type, so I went out a lot.”

Feign enthusiasm. “Whoa…” Nailed it.

Gon shrugged, and rested against one of the trees, careful to not disturb any of the fireflies. “They taught me a lot of things.”

Shit. “What… sorts of things…”

“Useful stuff,” Gon said, preoccupied with another thought. “Hey, Killua, how about you? Have you ever been on a date?”

“Nn,” Killua mumbled. “Well. No. I was raised to be an assassin, so it’s not like I had time. I was always training. Now I guess I’m with you.” Ahaha.

“Huh,” Gon replied, appearing thoughtful. “Maybe I could show you the ropes.”

“...H-How do you plan on doing that?”

“Let’s pretend this is a date!”

Oh my god. “What the hell,” Killua protested. “That’s—that’s weird.”

Gon laughed and moved to place his arm around Killua’s waist, and Killua almost yelped from surprise, He felt Gon’s strong arm against his body, pulling him closer. Beyond all reason he worried that somehow the sensation in his chest would reach Gon’s hand.

“For one thing, they seem to like it when you do that.”

“Why…” Killua’s mouth went dry and he had to swallow before continuing. “Why am I…? The woman…?”

“Oh!” Gon took his arm back and Killua instantly regretted complaining. “Here, then you try.”

Killua internally willed himself to reach out but remained frozen. His face was hot. “What the hell! This is so weird. I’m not gonna… what the hell.” Without thinking he stormed forward. Gon made a sound of disappointment but moved with him.

“You don’t wanna?”

“Nn.” Killua kept walking, hopping over a trail of ants.

“Why not?”

Was Gon teasing him? Killua kept his eyes forward and his hands in his pockets. “Nn.”

“Killuaaaaa.”

He felt Gon collide with him purposefully from behind, catching him off guard. He couldn’t get his hands out of his pockets in time to stop himself from being acquainted face-to-face with the forest floor. “Why you--!”

Gon laughed and scrambled to his feet, tripping over the backpack he had set on the floor in the process. Nanika scrambled out and bolted up a tree, scattering fireflies, only to stop at a branch and shake bugs off her paws. But Killua was too busy pinning Gon down and putting him in a headlock, so as to optimize the noogies he was about to deliver, to notice the bugs falling down his shirt. When he felt the legs crawling on him, trapped by the fabric of his shirt, he yelped and Gon got free.

“Shit!” Killua wriggled, and it looked like a silly dance. “Gon, stop laughing! Get these bugs off me!”

It would be a few minutes until Killua felt comfortable putting his shirt back on, almost certain that no more six-legged companions remained. Nanika came back down, scattering the fireflies resting in the trees a second time, opting to rest on Killua’s shoulder instead.

They didn’t move very far forward until once rich brown tree barks began to appear ghostly and pale, and the forest floor seemed to cling to their feet with each step. They both stopped and examined the area immediately before them now in the dim light of early sunset warily.

“What is this?”

“It’s sticking to my shoe,” Gon whined. One thing after another.

“Something’s not right.” Killua had a bad feeling. Fireflies were nowhere to be seen, and an eerie visual, as well as auditory silence replaced the colorful life of the forest. Gone were the yellow and green bioluminescent clusters, peppering the trees like stars. He looked up and instead white tassels hung completely still in the air. The wind too, kept quiet here. “Gon, let’s go back.”

They started to turn to leave, but the ground pulled their feet back down. Panic flooded Killua as he realized. This layer of ghostly white was spider silk.

He didn’t know what laid down this widespread carpet-like web, but Killua had no intention of finding out. With the grace of a lifetime of practice, Killua summoned a blade from inside his sleeve, catching its handle as it passed his wrist.

“It’s a good thing you’re an assassin,” Gon remarked.

“Hah.” He reached towards his own feet, leg tugging on the silk as gently as possible. But as he rubbed the blade against thread, the silk already stuck to the blade dulled its effect, and when Killua tried to remove it with his hand, his hand stuck to the blade instead. “Fuck.” He was definitely ready to get the hell out of this forest.

To add to their troubles, Killua picked up a presence in the vicinity, thought it didn’t seem menacing. Gon, detecting it too, watched Killua’s expression carefully and remained quiet. He watched Killua instinctively steel himself for self-defense and without realizing it, warily raise an arm in front of Gon.  Nanika trembled in his backpack.

“You two shouldn’t be here,” a voice came from behind the trees. A human figure emerged, with blonde hair and unfamiliar grey eyes, dressed in blue field clothes with foreign ornate patterns of yellow. Their clothes presented them as a man, although the slimness of their figure and the cut of their hair presented the question of androgyny. “This part of the forest is extremely dangerous.”

“I didn’t exactly see any signs,” Killua grumbled. “So why are you here, then?”

His snark bounced off the stranger, who maintained their even temper. “What you’re trapped in is the silk of the phantom spider. Every time someone who doesn’t know the forest wanders in, they get stuck. It takes a special chemical to rid yourself of it, and it’s hard to obtain.” They rummaged in a satchel, bringing out a small jar of clear liquid. “Fortunately, I have some right here, to free wandering kids like yourself.”

“I’m almost eighteen!” Gon replied enthusiastically before Killua could sass the stranger back, to which the stranger smiled.

With Killua’s blade dipped in this fluid, the silk dissolved rapidly upon contact, and Killua was impressed that the soles of his sneakers came out unscathed.

The person introduced themself as Kurapika, an entomologist who researched the phantom spiders. They checked Gon and Killua’s eyes, as well as Nanika’s. Kurapika sighed in relief.

“You’re lucky to not have been bitten.”

“If there was a spider on me, I would’ve felt it,” Killua pointed out. But Kurapika shook their head.

“The reason they’re called phantom spiders is because they easily bite without being detected.”

“How do you know if you’ve been bitten then?”

They were walking back through the colorful section of the woods, familiar iridescent insects now the backdrop to their conversation. Kurapika gazed ahead, looking distant, their eyes unfocused on anything present.

“Your irises turn red. You die not long afterwards.”

* * *

“What were two kids doing wandering around here?!” said the man called Leorio.

They were in a cabin on the outskirts of the forest now, sipping lemonade taken from Kurapika’s fridge. Or, more accurately, Kurapika and Leorio’s fridge. Had Killua not found out that Kurapika was a man on his way here, he would have assumed they were husband and wife.

“Who’re you calling a kid, old man?” Killua snapped impatiently.

“Old man--!” Leorio turned to him, his blucher shoes shuffling against the wood floor along the way. “I’ll have you know, I’m only 25!”

Whoa. Younger than Killua was expecting.

“But mister,” Gon spoke up. “You look like you’re old enough to be a dad.”

Only Gon could make being old like a compliment. Leorio, caught by surprise, rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. Hearing that from some seventeen-year-old kid… it made him feel even older, but not in a bad way.

“Hehe, well, I do hope to have kids some day…”

Kurapika refilled Leorio’s glass with a pitcher and a neutral expression. “It’s too early to think about that. Focus on your medical degree first.”

Leorio grumbled as he took a sip. “A man can dream, you know.” He watched Kurapika take a seat next to him, facing Killua and Gon. Nanika was curled up comfortably on Leorio’s lap even after just having met him, and for Gon and Killua, this was a good sign. “So! What brings you boys to this corner of the planet?”

“Killua and I are gonna travel the world!” Gon announced, much to Killua’s simultaneous delight and embarrassment.

At this, Leorio laughed good-naturedly and Kurapika smiled gently. “You two must be good friends.”

“Yup!” Gon beamed. “I feel like I’ve known Killua all my life.” Killua flushed a bit, but didn’t protest outwardly. It’s not that he didn’t feel the same, but saying it was a whole different matter. He sipped his lemonade slowly, keeping his lips occupied with the cool glass to stave off the glow of warmth resting in his expression. Tart and citrus infused into his senses, mingling with the faint scent of wood.

Leorio rubbed his chin, fingers brushing past stubble as he looked between the two boys. Gon was energetically engaging the two adults sitting before him, while Killua barely looked at anything besides Gon. Leorio wondered. “Hey, hey.” He leaned in a bit. “Are you two…?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Leorio sat back again with a satisfied look on his face. He sure looked smug about something.

* * *

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Killua.”

They were speaking in the dark, moonlight coming in from the nearest window. A futon functioned as a makeshift bed for the three guests. Nanika unintrusively tucked herself between the two boys, while Gon had laid next to Killua in the usual comfortable silence for a few minutes before turning over to face him, eyes looking earnestly into his, making Killua feel seen.

Killua looked back at Gon with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?” They whispered, so as to not disturb their hosts, who shared a bedroom with each other down the hall. Earlier, they had tossed pillows back and forth, but ceased immediately on hearing their hosts stir.

“Whatever it is, we can deal with it,” Gon whispered, his eyes shining with resolve. He took Killua’s hand in his and gripped it confidently, and something inside Killua’s chest fluttered. “I’ll help you.”

Killua wanted to believe him. But the way the moonlight slipped onto Gon’s jugular like a spotlight reminded him of his brother. The brother with cold eyes and cold hands that could destroy flesh the way sashimi knives sliced through fish, as if Gon didn’t have a pulse or a spine or anything connecting his skull to his clavicles. And Gon, living, breathing, and glowing as if his life energy were luminescent, was a flame that Killua did not want extinguished. The warmth from Gon’s hand radiated from a beating heart in his center, right next to the space where his laughs were born, where a final gasping breath could be drawn.

“Seriously, what are you talking about?” Killua scoffed quietly. “Everything’s fine. So, where do you want to go after this?”

Gon gave Killua a concerned look in reply.

“We’ll go there together,” Killua said, the words like false sugar on his tongue.

On the surface, Gon let the subject drop. He wasn’t going to get it out of Killua by prying. Meanwhile, Killua could not help but ponder the possibility of delaying what felt inevitable.

He looked at Gon, backlit by the moonlight, his tan skin breathing under the moonlight’s pale overlay. Gon’s hand felt rough and warm against his own, and his heart did that thing again, where it seemed to rise up against his chest and tremble. It excited and comforted him simultaneously, as if such a contradiction were possible.

Gon’s face wasn’t very far from his. It dawned on Killua that this was his first time sharing a bed with Gon. They had climbed in together without questioning it, but now that Killua noticed it, his mind danced about, moving from the feeling of shared warmth beneath the covers to Gon’s general and prolonged close proximity to himself. Killua felt conscious of his legs and where they rested.

Could Gon feel his heart race? Killua dared not ask. He suddenly wanted something he couldn’t voice, couldn’t pinpoint. He just wanted. And the way Gon looked at him, smiling sleepily, held his hand gently and earnestly, it only made that feeling stronger. He felt the urge to push that feeling down, fearing the way it seemed to tie him to things, things that he didn’t know whether he could keep.

What Killua neglected to notice while mired in his own thoughts was the way he looked at Gon so tenderly that it made Gon’s heart swell.

* * *

They had stayed with Kurapika and Leorio for two nights now, learning about the various bugs in the forest, having a guide to make excursions safer and more predictable. Leorio went to medical school by day, and worked with Kurapika at their desk by night, so it was just Kurapika accompanying them. The blond seemed to work tirelessly, for even after a day of hiking, exploring, and working in the field even with three little guests, he would collaborate with Leorio on things that neither Killua nor Gon could understand. The jargon used between them sounded like a secret language, a strange scientific intimacy. When Kurapika fell asleep at the desk the third night, Killua and Gon caught Leorio tenderly putting his jacket over the blonde’s rising and falling shoulders.

“Kurapika and I,” Leorio said softly, his face lit by the candlelight. “We’re working together to find the antidote to the phantom spider’s venom. Kurapika has spent a few years locating the spiders’ main nest. I’m training to be a doctor, so I have the medical know-how to help him with the cure.”

“Have you been able to find the antidote?” Gon whispered. Leorio shook his head.

“But we’ve a few clues.”

“What sort of clues?”

Leorio looked at them both now, these two boys who were not quite children, but not quite adults yet either. He saw in them the earnestness of the Kurapika he had first met, unburdened by years of struggle without an end in sight.

“I’m sure Kurapika would be okay with you boys knowing this.” Without a doubt. “For one thing, Kurapika is the only known person to have been bitten, and survived.”

Killua and Gon’s eyes darted to Kurapika’s figure slumped peacefully over the desk, head resting on papers strewn about on wood. When Kurapika took them out again the next day, he confirmed what Leorio had said. He had that faraway look again, when he told them of how spiders came like a quiet tide and swept the lives of those he had known all his life away. When he had awoken in a hospital, he was alone in the world, like the tide had risen all around to make an island of him, to submerge everything that was precious to him. Killua wondered if Leorio was the first one who crossed that sea.

* * *

Leorio forgot that they were visible from where Killua and Gon were standing as he plucked a ladybug from Kurapika’s hair. Even from a distance, Killua could see the slowness and carefulness that went into that gesture, and although he could only see the back of Leorio’s head, Kurapika’s face said it all.

He turned to Gon, hopeful that his friend witnessed this tender moment as well. Leorio had the day off and was accompanying them for once. But Gon was trying to get a rare cicada out of Nanika’s mouth.

* * *

“Hey, Killua,” Gon called out to him in the night. They lay in a grassy clearing, dew mirroring the stars in the night sky. It had taken them a few minutes to get here from the cabin, and the open space invited them to stretch their limbs and spar. Killua took delight in a form of physical challenge that entirely excluded life or death, but rather a constant responsiveness to the body of the other with your own. He could tell, with eyes that had analyzed movement for a lifetime, than Gon was much less skilled and experienced than him. But the boy was strong, and Killua had to dodge extra carefully.

“You hit hard,” Killua managed as Gon landed another hit on his arms, which had been raised in last minute self-defense. “Not bad.”

Gon was out of breath now, and they paused to rest. “Haha, Killua, you’re really good yourself.”

Killua shrugged and crossed his arms behind his head. “I’ve been training my whole life. If I really wanted, I could completely kick your butt.” He couldn’t suppress a smug grin.

Gon grinned back at him. “Yeah, I’m sure you could.”

Killua loosened his arms a bit. “Huh. You sound like you don’t believe me.”

* * *

The letter had changed everything.

For those few weeks he had spent there, with Gon, the island had bathed Killua in comfort and security, in calm life. He could not bear to shatter that way of life for Gon and Mito as well. The hands that held that letter (as it was read and burned) had trembled, knowing that they had not the capability to overcome Illumi, should he not only come for Killua but destroy Gon and Mito in the process. His oldest brother, more than a decade his senior, not only commanded a highly advanced skillset, but also a terrifying ruthlessness, a personality almost optimized for their family line of work.

Killua hated that part of him that echoed this seemingly hereditary trait, the part of him too that could destroy and annihilate with ease and without remorse. Or perhaps it had been infused into him with a lifetime of being raised under the thumb of his family superiors. Either way Killua wondered how much room for anything else had been swallowed in his heart up by years of cold blood.

A horn blew, its tone deep and loud, and Killua could feel it in his clenched jaw, like a bass to the beat of his pulse. The ferry would leave the dock soon.

To spend his days on that island had been like a dream. When Gon appeared beside him, he dared to dream a bit longer.

 


End file.
